Charlie's Chocolate Factory: The Second Generation
by SnicketSister
Summary: After Willy Wonka's death, Charlie is instructed to find an heir using golden tickets. Rated PG for safety.
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.It belongs to Roald Dahl and Tim Burton. I sure would like to, though!_**

Charlie woke up and slid into his candy-man outfit: Purple shirt, pants, overcoat, top hat, and gloves. It was time to get to work and he had a wonderful idea to tell Willy about. It was a candy tree, made specifically to fit on the hill by the chocolate river. It would be made entirely out of chocolate, with mint leaves and caramel apples… His mouth was watering already!

Charlie opened the glass elevator and pushed the button for Willy's room. He was still planning it out. There could be a bird's nest made of cotton candy with chocolate eggs. Brilliant! Why hadn't he thought of this before? The elevator reached Willy's room and Charlie stepped out. Willy was still snoring away. Charlie tapped his shoulder gently.

"Willy! I've got a great idea for the candy valley!" he whispered.

Willy was unresponsive.

"Willy! Wake up!" Charlie shook Willy's shoulder through the bedcovers. It felt cold and stiff. Charlie's face went pale. This was NOT happening. It was the worst nightmare imaginable.

The Great Willy Wonka was dead.

Charlie was silent as he stared at Willy, who was still lying in his purple pyjamas. Just at that moment an Oompa-Loompa entered the room with a tray of pancakes and chocolate milk. He seemed to sense trouble and laid the tray down on the floor. Waddling over to Charlie, he peered at Willy, then Charlie, then Willy again?"

"Is this what I think it is?"

"Yes," said Charlie through a mask of tears.

"This must be dealt with ASAP. I will get your parents. Call the doctor."

The Oompa-Loompa waddled off as Charlie reached for the phone.

"Hello? This is Charlie Bucket. Is Dr. Pebbles there?"

"This is he."

"Oh. We have an emergency. Can you come over here right now?"

"What is the nature of this emergency?"

"Willy Wonka is in-um-critical condition."

"What are his symptoms?"

"Significant drop in temperature. Lack of breathing and heart beat."

"Oh dear. I'll be there right away, although I'm afraid I won't be able to do much."

"Thank you. Please hurry."

Charlie hung up. This was awful. His mentor and life-long friend. Gone.

"Oh, Charlie!" his mother ran in. "The Oompa-Loompa told us the news. We got over here first thing we could!"

"Have you called the doctor?" asked his father. "And the lawyer?"

"What?" exclaimed Charlie and his mother in unison. "Willy Wonka has just died and you're worried about a lawyer?"

"It wasn't a murder, dad!"

"I know. It's about the will! If he left you anything, Charlie, he'll say in the will!"

"Oh," replied Charlie. For once, inheriting the chocolate factory didn't mean very much to him.

The Oompa-Loompa entered again.

"Doctor will be here soon, I think."

"Thank you."

The Oompa-Loompa left. For a while Charlie did nothing but sit and stare at the wall. He couldn't look at Willy. It was too upsetting.

After several minutes, Dr. Pebbles came in and put his stethoscope to Willy's chest.

"It's too late. He died in his sleep. Have you read the will yet?"

"No! Would everyone just stop talking about the will?" Charlie said, leafing a pancake at Dr. Pebbles.

Mr. Bucket cornered Dr. Pebbles. "It's better you not talk about anything in front of him. He needs some time alone. We could read it outside," he whispered.

"Go ahead," Charlie replied loudly. "You're right."

Everybody left the room to read Willy's will. Why was it so important? Everyone knew he would inherit the factory sooner or later, no questions asked. But it was not to be.

"Charlie?" asked his mother, poking her head in through the door..

"Yes?"

"I'm afraid you have a small problem. Well, you see, the will says the chocolate factory won't be yours until you find an heir."

Charlie blinked dark water out of his eyes.

"You mean-?" he said in horror.

"Thankfully no. This is the odd part: he said to use the golden tickets."

Charlie jumped up, knocking over the tray of pancakes and chocolate milk. "Brilliant!"

"I knew you'd say so," smiled Charlie's dad from the door.

"I'll start right now," said Charlie, hugging his parents.

Over the next 3 weeks, Charlie, his parents, and the oompa-loompas were busy childproofing the chocolate factory: Tall railings around the chocolate river, locked doors on the inventing machines and a squirrel atrium. Charlie was planning to do the same tour, and he didn't want any children meeting untimely fates. On the first morning of Week 4, he took the elevator to the heart of the chocolate factory, quietly set 5 golden tickets down on 5 Bucket Bars, and watched them slide off down the assembly line as quickly as they had come. Then Charlie realized something. In a matter of minutes, the world would have choco-mania all over again.

**_How was it? Hopefully not too bad. In the next chapter we will meet Winner #1, all the way from Hamburg, Germany._**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter 2 is finally up! Hope you enjoy it! Thanks to my reviewersjustamirrorforthesun, candysweets, cheatachu82, sangowings, Flic, and Parody Master. You make my stories so much better!_**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Weight Watchers or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory._**

"Hey Gusto, vere you vatching TV last night?" Rolf ran to Augustus.

"Of course not. TV is an unhealthy habit. Still, vhat vas it?"

"Apparently Charlie Bucket is doing ze golden ticket shtick again and inviting 5 kids."

"It's not a chocolate factory, it's a death trap!" scoffed Augustus.

"Sure, vhatever." Rolf left him. Augustus tried to think about his paperwork, but it was no use. There were few things Augustus feared more than weight gain. After his ordeal in the chocolate factory, he never ate candy again. His mother put him on Weight Watchers.

He shuddered, banished the thoughts from his mind, and didn't think about them until 5:52 that evening when he got home.

"Papa!" yelled Augusta.

"Hello, Gusti!" He picked her up and swung her around while she giggled.

"Papa, remember those stories you're always telling me about the chocolate factory? Vell, ze're doing ze golden tickets again!"

Augustus was shocked. Augusta stared up at him with clear blue pleading eyes.

"Absolutely not! You vill not go to ze chocolate factory."

"Please, Papa! I von't eat any chocolate, I'll just look! And I'll avoid ze river!"

"Dream on. You get fat stepping into that factory."

"But I'm different, papa!" She flung her blonde braid off her shoulder.

"Enough of that! Now, go to ze store and get me some artichokes." He held out a 5 dollar bill.

"Yes, papa," muttered Augusta, taking the money her father held out.

Augusta stomped outside. It was an awful day. She wanted the chocolate factory so much… she didn't even know what chocolate tasted like! Just her luck to have landed a father who handed out toothbrushes on Halloween. She stopped. Forget artichokes. She approached the candy store with happiness in her soul.

"One Bucket Bar, please," she said.

"Trying to get ze golden ticket, are you?" The cashier took the money and handed her a chocolate bar, along with change. Augusta took it. This lovely rectangle of heaven was all hers!

"I wonder what it tastes like," she thought as she carefully opened the bar. As she pulled down the wrapper, her eyes didn't see brown. They saw gold. She stared for a few minutes, awestruck.

"Look! She's got ze golden ticket!"

The children in the store crowded Augusta. One particularly disrespecting boy tried to pluck the ticket from Augusta's fingers. The cashier shooed the children away.

"Run home quickly, little girl! You don't want anyone to take zis treasure away, do you?"

Augusta quickly headed for the health food store and bought 3 artichokes with her change. She headed for home with a spring in her step.

Later that night, over a meal of artichoke pasta…

"Papa?" Augusta said, still hungry from such a small portion.

"No seconds, Gusti!" said Mrs. Gloop.

"I'm fine, zhank you. I have something to ask."

"Vhat is it?" asked Augustus.

"I-um-got ze golden ticket."

"WHAT?" screamed Augustus.

"I didn't eat any chocolate! I gave ze actual bar away!"

"You are not going to ze chocolate factory and that's final!"

"Augustus!" hollered Mrs. Gloop, standing up abruptly. "Get over here!"

He followed her out of the room. Augusta listened in.

"Darling, you're being unreasonable! She vas lucky even to have gotten the ticket!"

"Oh, so vhat? Ve'll give it to some kid."

"It's hers, though!

"She's overveight!"

"She is not! Ze doctor said she was 10 pounds underveight. She could use a romp in ze chocolate factory!"

"Fine. I have a few things to patch up with Bucket, anyway."

"I knew you vould understand."

"But she has to promise to go nowhere near ze chocolate river."

They re-entered the room. Augusta tried to look like she didn't know what was going on.

"You may go, Gusti, on ze one condition you go nowhere near ze chocolate river."

"Papa! Zhank you so, so, much!"

"Brush your hair Augusta. I'll call the news."

MEANWHILE, IN ANOTHER PART OF THE WORLD…

"Remind me, Charlie, why are we going to watch TV for the first time in 20 years?" inquired Mrs. Bucket.

"I hear the first golden ticket was found and I want to see who won it," Charlie said, flicking on the set.

The screen glowed and a banner labelled "Exclusive!" flashed across it.

"The first golden ticket has been found by Miss Augusta Gloop." the newslady said. A picture of the Gloop family flashed across the screen.

"Dang!" Charlie shouted to no one in particular, and began to choke on his spit.

"I am really glad to have gotten ze golden ticket," said the little girl.

Charlie hardly recognized the 140 pound Augustus as his picture was shown.

"What is odd is the fact that Augusta's father, Augustus, was the first winner of the first golden ticket sweepstakes."

Before and after pictures of Augustus filled the screen. There was the 332 pound Augustus and the 140 pound Augustus. It was just scary.

Charlie's mother sensed his trauma and turned off the TV. Charlie proceeded to bang his head on the coffee table.

**_Our next winner, all the way from the UK, will soon be revealed! Keep reviewing! More updates are coming soon!_**

"What have I gotten myself INTO?"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry for the massive delay in getting updates out. I've had a bad case of writer's block complicated by homework. To make up for it, if only partially, this chapter is a whopper! I hope you like it. Don't forget to R&R!**

Percy stood on the curb in front of Richenfanci Academy as an ominous yellow Hummer swerved into the Small Car parking space. The door clicked open.

"Mother, do you know how late you are?" Percy demanded.

"Get in the car," Veruca replied.

"Do you know how boring after school homework club is?"

"Get in the car, Percy."

"Where's the chauffeur?"

Veruca stepped out of the car and grabbed Percy by the shoulders, dragging him toward the door.

"He's driving your father to Buckingham Palace."

"Why is Father going to Buckingham Palace?"

"There's a gala there tonight, hosted by the queen."

"Why aren't you going?"

"I am going. That's why I was late. I had to change into one of my ball gowns."

Percy finally noticed the silky yellow fabric draping his mother, and the matching headdress that was twisted through her dark brown hair.

"Why on earth did you pick the yellow Versace?"

"Buckle your seatbelt. It's the Queen's Golden Jubilee and everyone has to wear yellow or gold."

"Is Father wearing yellow?"

"Yes darling, he's wearing his canary tuxedo."

"Which one: Gucci or Valentino?"

"Neither. It's Prada."

"Have you informed him he looks awful in it?"

"Of course not. Now, fasten your seatbelt before I go stark raving mad!"

He watched as his mother positioned herself in the driver's seat and stuck in the keys.

"Mother, have you noticed that you're not wearing your seatbelt?"

"If I wear my seatbelt it will spoil my gown."

"Am I going to Buckingham Palace?"

"No."

"Why?"

"You're too young."

"Will Prince Harry be attending?"

"Percy, Prince Harry is 21. You're only 10."

"Who would you say is more mature: Prince Harry or I?"

"You know perfectly well the answer to that, darling."

"Prince Harry, right?"

"Actually..." Veruca trailed off. "Oh bother, never mind!"

"Where will I be, then, if I'm not going to Buckingham Palace?"

"You will be at the manor with nurse."

"Am I allowed to scare the tourists by hiding in the suit of armor?"

"You know perfectly well the answer to that, darling."

"Am I allowed to go into the guest shop and buy a Bucket Bar so as to increase my chances of winning a trip there?"

"No!" Veruca screamed so loudly that Percy stopped his perpetual questions for a second or two.

"Why?"

"You just don't get it, do you?"

"What is so dooming about a chocolate factory?"

"When I got out of the factory, my father's company had a business boom due to all the publicity. My father invested in more nuts than he knew what to do with. A few years later, he had fired all his workers in favor of squirrels. The workers held a petition demanding their jobs back. He refused. Squirrels were cheaper and would work harder. Then the squirrels went on strike. By the time I was 18, Salt's Nuts had gone belly up, my father was broke, and I was forced to marry Peter Pepper, the heir of Pepper's Spices."

"Were you aware that I was forever doomed to being called Percy Salt-Pepper?"

"I was vaguely aware, yes." Veruca engaged in a slightly cruel laugh.

"How close are we to the manor, Mother?"

"We're here. Be nice to Nurse."

Percy stepped out of the Hummer and waved goodbye to his mother as she sped off in a cloud of dust. His mother had always been a bit on the loony side. Probably came from being married so young.

Percy strode into the lobby. About 20 strangers were milling about, examining the artwork and the sculptures. Christopher, a tour guide, stood in the center of the room, flanked by several people, eager to learn about Van Gogh's charcoal methods.

"Don't the pests know this is my house, not a museum?"

Percy glanced at the famous suit of armor. He remembered when he had first realized its potential as a prank. The wonderful look on the tourist's faces as the suit lifted its arms and screamed. Ever since, more and more people had been flocking to Pepper Manor to see the "Famous Zombie Knight." It was about time he reprised his role. He wandered off to the side. No one was paying attention. The crowd had moved over to the far end to examine Rodin's Thinker. Percy fit himself into the suit and let out a loud, eerie groan. Through the eye slits he could see the tourists looking over their shoulders. He let out a pained scream and swung up his arms. Several tourists ran towards the suit. Percy continued to moan and scream. Some tourists screamed. Excellent.

A woman who looked to be about 30 and was wearing an Oregon State University sweatshirt tapped the suit with a frightened look on her face. Percy let out a loud, angry scream and swatted at her. The woman screamed and, apparently panicked, punched the knight. Percy screamed (for real this time) as the suit dislodged itself from its stand and fell to the stone floor with a crash.

There was silence. Percy forced out a little breath. His body was hopelessly mangled in the knight's suit. He was in trouble now. He tried to lift his leg and discovered, with a certain amount of terror, that the suit was too heavy to move in.

"Oh, you've done it now, Valerie," a woman's voice said.

"What, it's not my fault! It would have killed everyone in this room if I hadn't stopped it."

Somewhere in the room a child wailed. He heard a mother's voice soothing it.

Percy heard Christopher speaking. "Actually, Master Salt-Pepper routinely hides in the suit of armor." There was a hollow clanking sound. Percy cringed.

"Master Percy! Do you need some help?"

"How did you know I was the Zombie Knight?"

"I have my sources. Anyway, do you need any help?"

"Do I look like I need help?" Percy snapped.

"Yes." Christopher undid the suit, explaining to the tourists all the while how medieval armor worked. Finally, Percy was freed from the suit.

"Now don't come sneaking into the armor ever again." Christopher shook a scolding finger.

Percy slunk off into the guest shop. His cheeks burned with embarrassment. Christopher sure was good, making the best of a horrible situation. Still… he added Oregon State University to his list of places to sue.

"Hey Percy, why the long face?" smiled Cashier Carla.

Percy mumbled an inquiry and kicked a rack of postcards.

"What's that you say, Percy?"

"Do you think Christopher is a loser?"

"No, I think he's nice."

"Can't you see how mean he is?"

"I've never seen him be mean."

"Does telling a bunch of tourists you're the Famous Zombie Knight count as being mean?"

Carla blinked in a confused manner.

"You really don't know much, do you?"

Carla sighed and turned to making a strawberry smoothie. Oh great. He had insulted her again.

"Why do you always have to be so sullen?"

She turned around. "Buy something or get out.

"Carla, can I buy a candy bar?" He gave her a dollar.

Carla threw a Super Deluxe Flip-It-And-Reverse-It Bucket Premium Chocolate Bar over her shoulder. "Enjoy."

"Does this have peanut butter?"

"I don't know!"

"Are you aware that if you talk to me like that, I can get you fired?"

"No, Master Percy, I'm not sure it has peanut butter."

"Can I have a Super Deluxe Flip-It-And-Reverse-It Bucket Premium Peanut Butter Chocolate Bar?"

Carla tossed the said chocolate bar over her shoulder.

"May I have scissors?"

Carla turned around and handed him the scissors. "Can I get you anything else, O Great Master Percy?"

Percy ignored her and snipped open the wrapper with a quick gesture, almost a twitch. He handed her back the scissors and folded down the wrapper in delicate intervals. His eyes widened. He laid down the chocolate bar.

"Do you envy me because I just found a golden ticket?" he breathed.

"Can I see?"

"Don't you envy me?" Percy squealed and handed her the ticket.

"Who doesn't know much now?" Carla hollered. "It's mine! It's mine!" She ran into the front entrance, whooping and hollering. Percy, in a stupor, squealed and raced after her.

"Aren't any of you fools aware that she is a thief?" Percy yelled, running into the lobby after her. He barreled between guests, knocking a girl about his own age over. He lunged for Carla, grasped the back of her vest, and dragged her down on top of him.

"Let me go, brat!"

"Percy!" Christopher bellowed.

"Do you know that she stole the golden ticket from me?"

"Did you take it, Carla?" Christopher asked.

"It's mine!" she yelled. "That's all you need to know."

"Carla, you are one inch away from being fired. Cough it up."

"But it doesn't belong to the brat! I got it, it's mine."

"Where did you get it?" Percy gasped between heavy pants.

"Where do you think? The guest shop!" Carla smirked, satisfied.

"So, in any case, you stole a candy bar," Christopher said.

Carla spluttered. "No, no, of course not, I left money in the register, I did!"

"Nice try, missy. Give Master Percy back his ticket."

Carla spat on Percy's shadow as they both stood up and she handed him the ticket.

"That's ENOUGH, Carla. Out. Now. You're fired."

Carla narrowed her eyes in an evil glare and stormed out of the manor.

"Master Percy, please meet your nurse in your room now." Christopher said, gently nudging him. Then Christopher turned around to the crowd and resumed the tour like nothing had happened. Percy reached his room on the third floor soon, where he showed the ticket to loyal Nurse, who promptly called the Pepper Press Distribution to schedule an interview. Within hours, Percy's story was circulating cable TV...

Veruca was socializing with the Duke and Duchess Addisababa in Buckingham Palace. All of a sudden, the tinklingTruTone of Green Day'sAmerican Idiot rang out. It was her cellphone. The Duchess' mouth dropped.

"You listen to that gahbage? Come Humphrey, let's go chat with Camilla and Charlie."

Veruca stomped into the restroom and hollered at Christopher for ten minutes before he could squeak out the events of the afternoon. "Tell him he can go. I don't care," she sighed. "But when I get home he's going to get a spanking."

Charlie watched the interview on his TV, shaking his head sadly. "Well I can't say I'm surprised," he groaned to his parents.

"He better not be a brat," scowled Mr. Bucket before nodding off on the clean white sofa.

Meanwhile, in a darkened room in another part of Europe, someone watched the news story with contempt in their blackened heart. "Someone's going to pay for this," a voice whispered. "Oh, yes, someone's gonna' pay."


End file.
